Silence Must Be Heard
by WitheringSage
Summary: When Raja plans a birthday picnic for Lancelot, he fails to show. Left alone in the forest, she follows a deer and encounters Woads along the way.


**Silence Must be Heard**

_People talk too much for what they have to say  
Words without a meaning, just fading away  
Silence must be heard, noise should be observed  
The time has come to learn, that silence ...  
Silence must be heard  
-_Enigma

Chronology: Tristan is 19. Lancelot is 17. Raja is 9.

Raja bade her Uncle farewell, heading off to the predestined place in the forest where she was to meet Lancelot in less than an hour. She took with her his birthday present that had taken her several weeks to finish. She could only hope that he would like it. It was yesterday when she approached her cousin, asking him to meet her by a mossy copse near a rapid flowing river. With the help of Rowena, a wonderful lady who worked in the kitchens, Raja had put together a nice afternoon meal containing some of Lancelot's favorite foods – even certain kinds of meat, which Raja would definitely not be eating along with him.

She trotted casually with Odin, a black horse that she had saved a little over two months ago from being executed because he was thought to be weak. But Raja had nursed him back to health with caring vigilance, and the young horse was now sprouting like a weed. Horus, a black and white feathered falcon had also joined Odin and Raja, as she had found Horus tangled in some bushes the same day she had come upon Odin. The horse was getting a bit big for Raja, but she insisted on riding him anyway.

When she arrived at her destination, she slid off Odin, untying the sack of food and Lancelot's birthday present from its harness. Raja spread out a blanket, placing medium sized stones on each of the four corners to weigh the cloth down, then she arranged the food, and sat down to wait for her cousin. It was nearing the time when he should have been there, but Raja decided not to worry. When an hour had gone by, she stood up and removed her cloak and jacket, folding them neatly by a tree. Odin was grazing not thirty paces away, and Horus was fluttering around the trees, sticking near the big black, the two animals constantly in the other's presence. The sun was moving past its zenith as another hour went by.

Raja sighed heavily, now taking off her boots, setting them next to her other shed garments. She rolled her form fitted breeches up to her knees and waded in the water, making sure not to go too far in. When the water began to numb her toes she went back to land, plopping on the blank where the uneaten food was placed. Tired of only hearing the rush of water, she took her wooden flute out from her satchel, playing random melodic notes that wafted in the breeze. A moment or so later, something caught Raja's eye across the river. She abruptly stopped playing and stood up, leaving her flute near her bag. Giving a closer look, the object moved again among the brush, and to her excited astonishment, she saw a stag – a big, beautiful brown stag with large antlers. She didn't know if it was roaming by itself, but she knew she had to get closer. Without bothering to put her boots back on, she headed back into the river, this time near stepping stones which she precariously made her way step by careful step. She almost slipped a few times, but Raja had good balance and made it across with no injury. She turned around, noting that Odin and Horus were safely on the other side, then she followed the stag.

Raja walked quietly, barely making a sound. When the stag moved, she moved, she continued to follow it mile by mile, not even noticing the time or the distance she was covering as she was completely enraptured by one of Mother Nature's creatures. Finally, the animal stopped in a small clearing, Raja peeking at it from behind a tree. She bit her lip, thinking of a course of action, then slowly she crouched on her knees, emerging from behind the tree, into the stag's eyesight. The animal stood alert, and Raja knew he could see her. She raised her head, unthreateningly, making eye contact. When the stag showed no signs of running, Raja crept closer and closer, the stag still remaining in its current place.

When Raja was no more than three paces from the animal, she stopped completely, and moments later, the stag crept to her, bending its head to sniff hers. She tipped her head up, feeling the stag's wet nose against her forehead. Raja cautiously stood up, raising her hands to the side of the deer's mouth, gauging its reaction. When he made no such move, she began to pet its nose, then moving so she could run her hands over its neck. It was fascinating. How long she got to be in the presence of the deer, she did not know, but when a far off sound, which she did not even detect, resonated with the deer, it instantly tensed. Raja looked in the same direction, listening as carefully as she could. As still as the stag was, one might think it was a lifelike statue.

Just then, she heard the hiss of an arrow by her head, missing the stag by less than an inch. She heard the distinct language of Woads, someone was berating the person who had let loose the wayward arrow. Then, there they were, one woman, three men, and one young boy, painted in blue, wearing animal skin, stood amongst her, all with bows and arrows. Raja touched the hilt of her dagger that was held against her waist by her black sash. When one of the male Woads moved, Raja backed up, the stag with her. Raja knew they wanted this beautiful creature, and she was not going to let them have him. The blue covered people looked at her with surprise when she unsheathed her dagger, assuming a position of defense.

It all happened so fast, and arrow was at the stag's head just as Raja moved, causing the kill to go awry once more. She heard her voice yell for the stag to run, which it did, bolting like a shooting star. When she saw one of the men try to take off, taking aim to shoot, she threw her dagger as it catapulted through the air, lodging itself in the back of the man's shoulder. He cried out in what sounded like more shock than pain. Then Raja felt the sting of an arrow graze her left shoulder, tearing her tunic. Then she felt a blow to her head, and everything went dark.

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Lancelot was quivering from head to toe having just experienced the best fuck he had ever had. The woman, Cassandra, was but five years older than him, and it was only because of his birthday that she finally acquiesced to his wants – agreeing to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted for the entire day. It was only the third hour of the day, but Lancelot was no where near finished with the delectable piece of woman he had panting next to him in his bed. As far as he was concerned, this was the best birthday present he had ever received. Still collecting his breath, Lancelot turned his head to ravage the woman beside him. Her voluptuous breasts, flat stomach, legs that went on for days, wrapping themselves around his hips, clutching him firmly, urging him on and on...

"What are you looking at, knight?" Cassandra placed her sultry blue eyes on him, caressing his cheek with the backs of her fingers. She turned on her side; supporting her head on her fist as her other hand ran down his sculptured chest and abdomen, all the way down to the tight nest of dark curls that surrounded his half-erect phallus.

"I would think it is obvious what I am looking at," he replied, his voice husky, strained with the pleasure of her warm hands enveloping his steadily hardening member.

"Big boy," she whispered, fascinated. "Perhaps I should not have waited so long to lay with you. I have been missing out."

Now that he was fully aroused, he flipped her over, covering his larger body over hers, shoving his sex fiercely into her wet channel. "You have been missing out," he growled in her ear.

Cassandra wiggled her hips, tightening the walls of her vagina, causing him to hiss. "Well, my knight, although I said you could have me for as long as you wanted, do you not think your other friends might have plans to entertain you on your special day?"

Lancelot snorted, biting her bottom lip, massaging the tip of his tongue with hers. "As far as I'm concerned, this is all the entertainment I need. This is the only thing I had planned..." His thought was suddenly cut off, a niggling feeling of doubt wafting through his brain. Then it hit him. "Shit!"

"What?" Cassandra's eyes were wide, perplexed at his sudden change of tone.

He shut his eyes tight, shaking his head in self-deprecation. "No, no, no," he repeated.

"What is it?"

"My cousin. She had something planned; I was supposed to meet her..." He looked out the window; the sun was well past its peak.

Cassandra giggled. "That is so sweet of her. But I take it you forgot?" She smirked at him.

He rolled on his back, covering his face with his hands.

"Now, now," Cassandra purred. "Don't pout. She'll understand." She straddled him, removing his hands from obstructing his face. "Kids forgive easily."

Lancelot snorted. "You don't know my cousin. Loyalty is important to her."

"You know, I don't think talking about a little girl is the best topic right now, considering..." She gyrated her hips against his penis. "Besides, what I have to offer is probably _nothing_ compared to what she was going to give you."

Lancelot was about to speak, but she covered his protestation with her cherry red lips, pushing aside his indecision and his guilt.

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A few hours later, washed and groomed from his many excursions with Cassandra, he headed towards the stables to find his cousin. But he only found Tristan and Dagonet.

When the two knights had entered the stables, they noticed Lancelot's horse, but noted Odin's absence. Before Lancelot could even speak, he heard the baritone of Ardeth's voice.

"There you are, Lancelot." There was nothing angry in his tone. He also did not fail to note the absence of Raja's horse. The tiniest tick of worry creased his eyebrows. "I cannot find Raja; do you know where she is?"

Lancelot hesitated, feeling the eyes of the men on him. "No..."

"No?" Ardeth's eyebrows creased. "Were you not with her? She should have returned with you. I made that clear to her."

He was at a loss for words, stumbling over nonsensical excuses. "I...uh..." In vain, he looked around for help, finally slumping his shoulders in defeat. Trying to avoid the dark gaze of the Egyptian, he mumbled, "I forgot about meeting her, and I was looking for her myself just now."

"I see." Ardeth's voice was calm.

"I'll go to the area she wanted me to meet her at to see if she's still there," Lancelot said.

"That is quite all right, Lancelot." Ardeth moved towards Ra, his big black that dwarfed all the other horses in size. "I know where the meeting place was, I shall go for her."

But just then, the trot-trot of Odin's hooves sounded, him and Horus entering the stables...without Raja. Horus cawed loudly, shrilly, which sounded as if it were a distress call.

Without another word, Ardeth saddled Ra quickly and efficiently. He mounted, Horus settling himself on Ardeth's hand. Although, Horus had not been with them long, he was an expert tracker, intelligent, and was even learning how to send missives. He and Odin also seemed to work well together as a team, keeping track of Raja's whereabouts, sensing any danger that might be in the surroundings.

The Egyptian left without a word, Odin following him. Worry filled Lancelot, and his guilt pushed it over the brim.

"She worked really hard to plan this occasion for you," Dagonet said. The giant knight was always calm, the peacemaker of the group, but Lancelot's blatant forgetfulness stirred the ire in him.

"I know that," Lancelot snapped.

"Apparently not," Dagonet retorted.

Tristan stood there in silence, boring holes through Raja's cousin. His silence said everything. "Too busy fucking some whore," he stated monotonously.

Lancelot snapped, taking a leap at Tristan, pushing him against the wall. "Shut up! I am sick of you always acting superior to me just because-" Tristan sent a punch to Lancelot's face before he could finish his sentence. It knocked him to the ground, and Tristan instantly had him by the tunic, slamming him against the wall.

Dagonet was instantly beside the two of them, a large hand on the scout's shoulder, even thought he felt that Lancelot had that one coming.

Lancelot shook his head to clear it. He looked back at Tristan in defiance. "If you weren't always hogging her-"

"If you could remember the simplest things." Tristan barked.

"I'm her cousin, not you!" Lancelot spat.

Tristan jerked him to him, then slammed him against the wall again. "Then start acting like it you selfish piece of shit." He released Lancelot, leaving the stables without a look behind him.

Dagonet stared at the other knight, shaking his head before walking out of the stables, too.

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All Ardeth found was Raja's cloak, coat and boots and the remnants of the picnic she had prepared that had been picked apart by the forest animals. The sun was setting rapidly, soon it would be too dark to track his little niece. Horus flew across the river, cawing as he landed on a tree branch. Ardeth dismounted, making his way across the river without so much as a thought, and in the dim late afternoon, he saw tiny footprints heading into the brush. He followed them, soon coming upon tracks that he knew to be of a large deer, Raja's indentations close. He came to the clearing, observing carefully. He could see no foot or deer prints beyond that area. His eye caught the feathered end of an arrow tangled in a bush, he pulled it out, seeing the symbols of the Celts on this island. Dread ran through him. He looked up at the sky discerning the hour. Ardeth made his way back from where he had come, mounted Ra, Horus and Odin following him back to the fort.

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"She has good aim." A male voice.

"Shut up, Maddan!" A second male voice.

Raja stirred, hearing voices. Little by little she came to her senses, her eyes fluttering open to see that the sun was less than an hour from setting in the horizon. Her vision cleared, and through her hair that was falling over her face, she saw a bright fire going, and the people who she had encountered when she was with the stag.

As she listened to them speak, she realized that she was understanding them conversing in their native tongue. She had a gift for languages, and her Uncle had been tutoring her in Celts. The numbness in her hands and feet told her that her wrists and ankles were tightly bound. She thought back, remembering the brief skirmish, then a strong blow to the head which had rendered her unconscious. Raja's temple pounded furiously in pain, feeling dried blood on her face.

"She ruined my hunt." The young boy.

"Damn your hunt. She lodged a dagger in my shoulder." The first male voice.

"All of you be silent." The female.

Raja heard the first male groan in pain, then she smelled burning flesh. They were cauterizing his wound.

The woman again. "When we return we will take care of your wound more efficiently."

"What about the girl?" asked Maddan.

There was a brief silence.

"Leave her here." The first male.

"Hmm. Actually, Donuil, she might be important," said the woman.

Raja heard footsteps approaching her. She opened her eyes just slightly, seeing that it was the young boy who now kneeled in front of her. Raja closed her eyes when he tossed her hair off of her face, feeling his scrutiny of her features. He touched the area of her hair that bore her white streak. He grabbed it and held it up. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" He sniffed it. "Maybe she's a witch!"

Donuil snorted.

"She's too small to be a witch, Athol," Maddan said scornfully.

"I don't think witches have a size requirement," the woman retorted. She approached Raja, touching her hair as well. "Extremely soft hair," she said more to herself.

Maddan and Donuil laughed. Donuil said, "Only you, Moira, would notice such a trite thing."

"She is a woman," Maddan pointed out.

Moira shot them a scathing look. "She does sort of remind me of a witch. Or maybe a faerie."

"A faerie with skin like hers?" Athol asked.

Moira shrugged.

"Maybe it's her eyes," Athol conjectured. "Almost like pure silver. She's an odd looking girl."

"Stop with the witch business," moaned Maddan.

"Think of it. Have you ever heard of a stag letting someone get so close? I have never seen such a thing," Moira awed.

"So what?" Donuil took a bite of something, speaking with his mouth full. "You saying she can talk to animals?"

"Only one way to find out." Maddan got up with a grunt. He stood over Raja and poured cold water on her face.

The little Egyptian girl could no longer keep up the pretense of unconsciousness. She was surprised at the sudden spill of water on her face, her eyes shooting open.

Athol gasped and recoiled, even Moira and Maddan took a step back. The girl's eyes permeated an eerie ethereal quality in the darkness, the flames leaping in her eyes. Raja looked up at them, seeing their faces again. The boy wasn't as young as she first thought, he was just scrawny, and she judged his age to be at least thirteen or fourteen. Moira was a lithe, shapely woman with brown hair. Maddan was a tall man, shaggy brown hair to his shoulders, wearing a vest of brown leather and brown leather breeches with boots. Donuil wore the same, as did Athol. Moira's vest was the same, only she wore a skirt.

"Stand back," Maddan ordered, obviously the leader of the group. He propped Raja in a sitting position against a tree, her head lolling dizzily at the sudden movement. He kneeled in front of her, staring her in the eyes. "What are you?" he said in his native tongue.

Raja pretended not to understand him. It would work to her advantage for them to talk amongst themselves if they thought she was ignorant to their words.

"You idiot," Moira chastised in Celts. "She doesn't speak our tongue."

"Oh?" Maddan looked back at Moira mockingly. "You said she was a witch, why should she not understand our language?"

She sneered at him.

This time, Maddan spoke in English. "What are you, girl?"

Raja continued to look at him with a blank expression.

"Maybe she's a mute," Athol offered.

"No," Donuil objected. "She was mumbling in a weird language as we were taking her here."

"A language I've never heard before," added Moira.

Just as Maddan was about to say something else, Raja caught something glint in his boot, and her eyes looked to his shoe, seeing the pommel of her dagger sticking out. Maddan smirked, taking the weapon out from his boot.

"I take it this is yours then?" Maddan looked at her with wry amusement and scorn.

Raja hated seeing her dagger in his hands. She licked her dry lips. "It is mine." She tried to keep her head from swimming, whoever had knocked her had hit her pretty hard she could taste blood in her mouth.

"And she speaks!" Donuil declared.

Maddan again observed the carvings on the edge of the blade, the texture of the hilt and the shine of the blade, so pure in fact that he could see his reflection almost clearly.

"You were protecting the stag."

"Yes," Raja replied.

"Why?"

"He has a family somewhere."

"We had been tracking that creature for two days," Maddan said. "And how is it that it let you so close?"

Raja cocked her head to the side. "I wasn't trying to kill him, like you were."

Donuil threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

Maddan went back to his original question. "What are you?"

Raja was not ashamed to reveal her lineage, although she knew one of them was bound to catch their attention. "I am Egyptian and Sarmatian." Just as she had thought, the four of them went silent.

"Sarmatian." Maddan repeated. He scoffed. "You know Artorius Castus and his knights then." Not a question.

"Yes." There was no point in lying now.

Athol spoke in his native tongue. "She doesn't look Sarmatian."

"How would you know?" Donuil looked at him as if he were feebleminded. "Have you ever seen a Sarmatian before?"

"No," Athol said uncertainly, "but Collum has. And the way he described him doesn't fit with her. She's light brown."

"She's also..." Moira hesitated with the word, "Egyptian."

"Moira," Maddan said in Celts. "I think you were right. She definitely might be important."

Raja could keep consciousness no more, and for the second time that day, her world went black.

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Arthur had insisted that he and his knights go with Ardeth to bring Raja back. The Egyptian had protested, but Arthur would not be deterred. It was Ardeth who briefed them all at the Round Table about what he had found. Lancelot kept his head down the whole time, and although Ardeth said nothing about the fact that Lancelot was supposed to have met Raja, the unspoken words hovered in the air, the looks of accusation upon him. They were to leave at first light, following the trail from where Raja's footprints had stopped. From there, Ardeth had seen another set of footprints heading in the opposite direction, but it was too dark to look further.

Lancelot received little sleep that night. His emotions went back and forth between anger and guilt. Anger that Raja had gotten herself captured by Woads, following a deer, and guilt that he knew she would not have done so if he had met her at the appointed time.

Tristan did not sleep much either. He was angry at Lancelot, and his fist was itching to make contact with the other side of his face.

They all prepared silently in the pre-dawn. Galloping out behind Ardeth as they went in search of the lost girl.

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Raja felt a warm liquid on her face, she was still tied, her head still throbbed as she fell in and out of darkness. She opened her eyes, discerning the smell of the liquid. She jerked when she realized it was urine, her eyes snapping open to see a young boy pissing on her, and another one pissing on her legs. Raja felt indignation flare up inside of her, but when she tried to raise herself up, even with her bindings, her head swam, crashing back down on the ground. Someone shooed the boys off, and they ran off laughing. _No matter what culture, country, children are cruel. _ Raja would have laughed at this notion if she was strong enough to.

Her captors had traveled in the darkness of the early morning, stopping occasionally to rest and eat. Mostly they said nothing, they offered her water and dry bread, which had to be fed to her. The moist dew of the morning seeped into her lungs, congesting them to the point of sharp coughs. Maddan carried her over his shoulder as if she were an empty bag of grain, and a fleeting image of Tristan flashed in her mind before she once again lost her bearings.

Now, as far as she could tell, she was in a quaint village that had rounded huts spread about. She vaguely remembered entering a thick forest that she would not have seen had she not been carried into it. Raja had been tied for almost two days, the harsh rope abrading against her skin. The four Woads that had found her were now out of sight. It was late afternoon, and she was sitting tied to a wooden pole in one of their primitive huts, that only contained a fire in the center.

She knew she smelled awful, and she felt awful. She felt a burning in her stomach from lack of food, and a slight tremor of weakness. Two more people entered the hut, one of them approaching her dumping a bucket of cold water on her head. Once again, the effect of the unexpected deluge of water caused her to flinch. She shook her head, not able to wipe the drops of water away from her face.

She heard a man speak, and another splash of cold water hit her directly in the face. She coughed and sputtered. When Raja had come to her senses, she blinked to see an old, cantankerous looking man sitting on a log in front of her, Maddan and Donuil on either side of him. Maddan still had her dagger in his boot.

The three of them spoke in Celts. "This is what you bring to me?"

"We thought she might be of some importance," Donuil stated.

The old man scoffed. "Yes, you say she knows Artorius Castus." He said it with such disdain that Raja could feel it herself. He wore a golden torc around his neck, and she could only surmise that he might be the chief or village elder. His face was weathered and worn, the blue paint of his people mixed with dirt. The old man looked at her with brazen disgust. "I can do nothing with this...thing."

They argued amongst themselves, throwing the words 'witch' and 'faerie' around again. Then the word 'Egyptian' was uttered. The Elder cut them both of with a swift slice of his hand.

"Egyptian, you say?" His tone held no interest, but a threat. "There is an Egyptian man on this island that has been aiding Arthur for years." His eyes flashed at the two young men. "Merlin and I have spoken of him many times. From what we gather he is influential and wealthy."

Donuil and Maddan exchanged wary looks.

"So...we let her go?" Donuil inquired, uncertain.

"Fool!" the Elder spat. For an old man, he stood up quickly. "What caused you two idiots to bring her in the first place, I do not know. But you should have left her where you found her!"

Both of them stood up, chastened.

"So what do we do with her?" Maddan asked.

"I care not what you do with her, but get her far away from here and leave no evidence, otherwise we shall have the Egyptian and Arthur on our tails!"

When the old man had left the hut, Maddan and Donuil stood staring at her. Raja tried to look back at them but her head felt as heavy as a boulder.

Maddan shrugged his shoulders. "Well?"

Donuil sighed heavily. "Let's get a drink, we'll talk then."

From the inside of the hut Raja was tied in, she thought she heard the caw of Horus before she passed out.

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It was a few hours until sundown on the third day of their search. Horus was leading them, flying back and forth between where Raja was and where Ardeth and his knights were. They tracked the foot prints of what they surmised to be three grown men, a child and another fair sized set of footprints. Raja's foot prints were nowhere to be found. They stopped periodically for the horses needed rest. They slept little, eating on horseback. Ardeth led them like he would have led his own medjai back in Egypt. At times, it was Ardeth who had aided Arthur during the beginning of his leadership, and still acted as an advisor.

As they searched, the same feelings of anger and guilt washed over Lancelot. But this time the anger was at the Woads. _Damn them for taking my cousin! I've lost too much by their hands, I will not lose my cousin to them as well. _She was just a little girl, what would they want with her? Were they holding her hostage? Or did they already kill her and that was why they could not find her footprints? But if she was dead, Horus would have alerted them somehow. _How, I don't know, sometimes that bird gives me the creeps._ He promised himself that when they found her – Ardeth seemed certain that they would – he would be the most attentive cousin and brother that he could. He would even let her call him Lottie if it pleased her.

Tristan hid his worry behind his mask of stoicism, acting as the scout and warrior that he was. His anger towards Lancelot had long ago abated, replaced by a cold fear at the thought of losing Raja. She was out there on her own, and though she was smart, she still did not know the woods well enough to make her way without getting lost, especially way out here. He held no love for the Woads either, and if Raja died by their hands, he would seek them out and kill the lot of them.

Briefly, they had to stop again. As the horses collected themselves, Lancelot kneeled by a creek, splashing the water on his face. He turned when he heard the crunch of leaves and twigs behind him. It was Arthur.

"How are you?" Arthur asked him.

Lancelot let out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh. "How am I?" He stood up, wiping his face dry with his cloak. "I don't know Arthur, my cousin has been kidnapped, she might even be dead, and it's my fault!"

"It is not your fault."

Lancelot looked at Arthur as if he were empty headed. "No? If I hadn't been preoccupied with my own selfish needs, I would have been with Raja at the time I was supposed to and she wouldn't have wandered off."

"You made a mistake, Lancelot." Arthur tried to comfort his friend as best he could. "And we'll find her."

"Yeah, we'll find her." Lancelot spoke in a menacing whisper. "And then I'll slaughter the whoresons that took her."

"I don't doubt you."

They were quiet for a moment. "She'll never forgive me, you know."

Arthur tilted his head. His friend was rarely introspective as this, and Arthur knew he held little care for most people. "She loves you."

Lancelot looked at him with sharp eyes at his stark comment, a sardonic grin playing on his face. "I've given her no reason to. Besides, she never told me anything of a sort."

"Does it take words for someone to say they love you?" Arthur asked.

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Donuil and Maddan pulled an exhausted Raja with them. They had deliberated killing her and then taking her to the cliff that overlooked a rapid river, but they did not want to travel with a rotting corpse. They had gotten drunk the previous evening and had forgotten her until mid-afternoon the next day. They found her soiled with her own urine and bleeding from where the village children had been throwing rocks at her. Maddan cut her ropes with her own dagger, the blood flowing to her extremities slowly, painfully awakening the feeling in her limbs. Before they had taken her out of the village, they doused her with water again to alleviate the smell of her filth. Five other men joined them, oblivious to Raja, just knowing that Donuil and Maddan had to take care of her. They figured they would go along; join in the hunt with the two leaders afterwards.

The cold of the evening and morning, not to mention the repeated deluge of water on her person had seeped deep into Raja's skin, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. Cold was never her friend, and mixed with the lack of food, she could feel the sickness making its way through her body, igniting her poor resistance to fight fever. Her head ached with the rocks the children had thrown at her, and threw her haze of entrapment, she thought she was back in Egypt where the children had done the same thing. They poked at her with sticks, hacking off the white lock of her hair, spitting on her. She detested her inability to protect herself, she could not even utter words for her throat was too dry. She was the daughter of a warrior, first knight and scout when in the legion! Yet she was helpless and frightened. She wanted the safety of her uncle and his warmth.

Now, she stumbled and fell as Donuil held her tightly by the wrist, practically dragging her to the cliff they had spoken off, still unaware that she could understand their words. As she was led through the harsh forest, twigs and branches snapping in her face, against her legs, she was rapidly thinking of ways to escape. Maddan still had her dagger in his boot, the two men both had their swords, bows and arrows. Raja was a runner, as fast as a jackrabbit, but she doubted she could muster half the speed she normally could have fled with.

They had been walking steadily for almost three hours; the two men spoke of nothing, sometimes walking in silence.

"Let's take a break," Maddan said.

Donuil agreed, releasing Raja's wrist. "Sit." He sat across from his friend, each of them guzzling down the water in their flasks. Raja sat, purposely, to Maddan's side, the glint of her dagger within hands reach. Donuil leaned his head against the tree, looking up and around. "Look at that." He pointed.

Maddan turned his head, seeing a black and white hawk perched on a tree, staring in their direction. He shrugged. "Just a bird."

Raja observed as well, masking her expression at seeing her friend. She turned away when Horus took off with a flap of his wings.

Maddan sighed heavily, a groan of frustration.

"What's the matter?" Donuil smirked. "Still pissed Shelagh wouldn't fuck you?" He laughed and dodged the clump of dirt Maddan threw at him.

The other men laughed.

"Not funny," Maddan sneered. "My cock is aching with need."

Donuil snorted. "There's a tight one right there for you." He gestured towards Raja.

Raja stiffened at his words. Not that. _Please, not that._ Give a whip to her back, throw as many rocks at her head as you like...but not that. She began to breathe faster, heavier. Even as she sat dark spots blotted her vision.

-------------------------------------------

The evening was gaining upon them rapidly when Horus cawed, landing on Ardeth's wrist. He cawed again and flew to a branch. Odin whinnied, creating a ruckus along with Horus. Ardeth said something in Arabic to the bird, and Horus began to lead them away. All of them followed, and within in a quarter of an hour, they heard a man scream.

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When Maddan had looked at her, considering Donuil's suggestion, she sprung, the need of survival and escaping violation coursed through her, giving her spurts of energy. She pulled her dagger from his boot, and on her knees she slashed his chin, cutting upwards. He was just emitting his scream when Raja bolted. She didn't get very far before Donuil caught her, slamming her against the hard trunk of an oak tree. She held tightly to her dagger, the adrenaline of perseverance causing her to counterattack quickly, stabbing her sharp weapon in the side of Donuil's waist. She ran again when Donuil was immobile from shock, but then she was surrounded by all the Woads and a furious, bleeding Maddan.

Her heart pumped, she felt the blood pulse in her temples, and in the heat of skirmish she barely registered the ache in her back.

"Bitch!" Maddan cried. "I'll kill you with my bare hands!"

He lunged at her, unthinking in his rage, and Raja quickly aimed her dagger at his torso, burying it to the hilt in his flesh. She jerked the blade down and out, as she heard the hissing of arrows, and the men crying out in surprise. Maddan and Raja were forgotten by the Woads, and his body slumped on Raja, bringing her to the ground. She could not muster anymore strength, and she lay prostrate beneath him. In dizziness she saw horses and men, and the nuzzling of Odin on her head.

Ardeth was kneeling beside her, the Woads killed quickly by their arrows. He pushed Maddan off of her as if he weighed no more than air.

She mumbled to her Uncle, thinking him an apparition. She faded out.

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When she awoke it was by a warm fire. They were still in the woods, but far from the place of attack. Ardeth had cleaned her up, and now she was wrapped in his thick cloak, and warm clean clothes. While she had floated between awareness and sleep, Ardeth had salved her wounds, cleaning her cuts. She had a concussion from the initial blow to her head, and a slight fever heated her skin.

She discerned the blurry images of the men sitting around her, the horses tethered to the trees. Her Uncle had heard her mumbles and was kneeling besides her again. He spoke to her softly in Arabic, slowly sitting her up against a tree. Everyone was looking at her.

"Hey!" Bors said in his cheery, guttural voice. "Thought you'd never wake up."

Dagonet was already preparing a broth for her. Raja continued to look around, confused. Then she looked at her Uncle with big silver eyes, whispering in a cracked voice, "I killed him. I'm sorry." Her face crumpled and Ardeth cradled her in his lap. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

The men looked at each other, all feeling compassion for the young girl. Dagonet handed Ardeth a bowl of broth with a wooden spoon.

"Can you try to eat a bit, little one?" Ardeth asked.

"Where am I?" She ignored the proffering of food, turning her head away from the nourishment.

"We are a half day's ride from the fort," Ardeth told her. "You slept most the way."

"No." Raja's firm objection had them all raising their eyebrows. Then she said starkly, "THEY didn't touch me. I didn't let him!"

Lancelot winced, turning his head away from his cousin's distress.

"I didn't let him!" she insisted. Her wide eyes filled with tears but not a one dropped down her face. "See," she whispered, completely unaware of anyone around her, "I stopped THEM this time. Didn't I?" Odin came by her side, nuzzling her gently. Horus was perched on the tree she sat against.

"You did, little one, yes," Ardeth assured.

"I killed THEM." She stared directly into her Uncle's eyes now. Coming to her senses, she looked around her, smiling a small smile. "Did you come for me?"

Bors was the first one to reply, all of them a bit disconcerted with her confusion. "Of course! Couldn't leave you to those Woads. Can't leave a sister behind, you know."

She grinned wider this time, despite the bruises on her face. "Thank you." The slight enlargement of her pupils still told them that she was out of sorts, but coming to. "I'm hungry," she told her Uncle.

The knights had themselves a small meal as well.

"Is this what you all do when you're on patrol?" Raja asked. "Sit around and eat?"

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Raja's fever did not escalate, but her Uncle gave her an herbal drink to encourage sleep. Four days passed, and every time she awoke there was always someone sitting on a chair beside her bed, usually Tristan. She thought she had seen Lancelot a couple of times, but as far as she knew he never sat with her when she was just sleeping. Raja had a feeling that her nightmares bothered him.

"Did you miss me, Trissy?" Raja smiled sweetly at him.

He snorted and half-grinned.

"I will take that as a yes," she demurred with satisfaction.

Just then, Lancelot stood in the doorway. "Oh." He looked at Tristan. "Never mind."

Raja and Tristan exchanged a look, and he got up. "I was just leaving," Tristan said. He bade Raja goodbye, not sparing a glance at Lancelot as he left the room.

Raja's cousin hovered in the doorway.

"Well, come in, silly." Raja pointed to the chair beside her bed.

When he sat down he looked at her then looked away. "I'm sorry that I forgot to meet you."

"That's all right. I figured something important must have come up." Her mouth was curved upwards in acceptance.

He clenched his jaw at her understanding. "No...no it wasn't."

Raja shrugged. "What's done is done then."

"Why do you have to be so damned nice about it?" he snapped.

She was unaffected by his irritation, keeping silent, watching the torrent of emotions pass across his face.

Lancelot sighed. "Sorry. I seem to say that a lot to you."

Raja once again said nothing, moving to take a package from underneath the pillow next to her. "Your present."

He held the gift in his hands, it was wrapped in brown paper. She told him to open it, and when he did he was holding an eight inch by five inch clay tablet. He smiled when he realized it was a depiction from one of his favorite stories, one he had told her a few times during her sick days. The scene popped out, he ran his fingers over the mountain, the boy atop the horse speaking to an old man by the road, the sun that was in the distance. It was carefully painted and lacquered, the beveled outline of the tablet was carved with Sarmatian symbols.

On the back of the tablet, the dialogue from the excerpt was etched in Raja's neat, flowing script.

"_You told me the dragon would tell me how to get home," the boy said._

"_And what did he tell you?" the old man asked._

"_Nothing, that is precisely it! I asked him and he said nothing."_

"_Ah, perhaps that is where you went wrong."_

"_You speak in riddles, old man."_

"_I think you did not listen carefully enough to the dragon."_

_The boy's face turned red. "I was listening, but he did not say anything."_

"_Not with words, mayhap. But he was giving you the answer. Go back to the dragon and ask again."_

_The boy did precisely that, and this time he followed what the old man had said. Yes, the dragon did not use words, and somehow, this time, he understood what the dragon was telling him, and he found his way home._

"Thank you," Lancelot said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Why did you choose this one?"

"It's your favorite, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I never told you that."

"You didn't have to. You've told it to me so many times with more enthusiasm than any other story, it wasn't hard to figure out. You like it, then?" She bit her bottom lip with uncertainty.

Lancelot took her small hand, squeezing it affectionately. "It's the best present I've ever gotten."

3/26/07


End file.
